I always see the fresh flowers, hanging by the roadside in the fleeting dark of the morning—mostly red and white roses. They raise and lower their heads with each passing car as if to keep the time for us. The picture, too, they have replaced—a boy no more than sixteen, wearing a yellow and green-...

Strange, that as I drove to the ultrasound for our second child, I received news that my ninety-two-year-old grandmother would begin hospice care. As I sat in a hospital room with my wife, watching life thrive and flicker in shades of black, white, and grey, I couldn’t help but notice that the baby...

It’s never going to end, you know—the construction on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Cranes will keep swinging, dump trucks dumping, drills drilling, backhoes clawing. By the time the roads are paved and painted, some other section will be weathered to disrepair, and the PENNDOT orchestra of metal and...

I just put down Robert Letham’s The Holy Trinity , and while I thoroughly enjoyed it and recommend it as an introduction to the history and development of the doctrine, there is one gripe I can’t seem to lay down. Throughout the nearly five hundred pages of discussion, he faults theologians for...

When my wife and I moved into our house in the early spring, the two trees in the back yard were charming, their trunks splitting and winding like strands of hair, their leaves just beginning to bud. From what we could see, they added allure to the property, which was complemented by the rest of...